Bittersweet Magic (16 page)

She loosened the front of the robe, flashing her underwear, then slipped it off one arm and turned sideways to Christian so he could see the mark.

It was actually very beautiful: an intricate, almost Celtic design that wrapped around her upper arm. “Can you tell who put it there?” Piers asked Jonas.

“I might be able to find out. We have some books in the library, which might help.”

“Okay, but later.” He had a good idea anyway, considering which demon he already suspected was involved with the Key, but he’d keep that to himself until he decided what to do with the information. “For now, let’s get on with the story.”

Roz tugged up her dress and sat down. This time Piers filled her glass. She peered at him suspiciously before muttering a thank you. Underneath the calm exterior, she actually looked a little shattered. Well, she had just discovered that she was immortal.

“After my mother died, I knew they were coming for me. I stopped praying to God at that point and asked for help from another source.” She gave them an almost defiant look. “I prayed to Lucifer. And while I didn’t get the devil himself, I got the next best thing.”

“And you made a deal?” Christian asked. His tone was expressionless, but she must have sensed some censure, real or imagined, because she turned to face him, her eyes narrowed.

“I was seventeen, I’d just listened to my mother die screaming in agony, and they were about to do the same to me. So yes, I made a deal. I didn’t want to die screaming, but more—I wanted them to pay. Can you understand that?”

“Yes,” Christian replied. “You could say I made a similar deal myself. You don’t think I was born like this?” He grinned with a flash of fang and some of the tension seeped from her.

“I made a deal. I signed my life away until I had done thirteen tasks. In exchange, I got to live and I got revenge—he burned the village, killed them all, and afterward…”

She broke off, and Piers had an inkling of what had happened afterward. He decided then and there that if he ever got the chance, he would help her slice her demon into little pieces. He kept his thoughts to himself; this was a demon, after all. You could hardly expect civilized behavior. Tara was not so reticent.

“All demons are bastards,” she muttered.

“What about the fae?” Roz asked, her tone curious.

“They’re bastards as well. They just aren’t quite so obvious about it.”

“Tara is also half-fae,” Piers put in. “She’s not too fond of her family”

Roz studied her; Tara appeared human, but then so did she. “Oh. Well, I’ve always known I wasn’t particularly nice. Now at least I can blame it on my father.”

“It doesn’t matter who your father is,” Tara said fiercely. “You’re you. Just because your father is evil doesn’t mean you have to be as well.”

Well, Tara would have to think that, wouldn’t she—considering who her father was? “Go on,” Piers said. “What happened next?”

“I just went on. The years passed, and I tried to blend in, moving on before it became obvious I wasn’t aging. It was hard at first, but grew simpler as the world got bigger and traveling farther and faster became easier. Every so often I’d have to do one of the tasks—”

“What sort of tasks?” Jonas asked. “What is it you do?”

“Mostly, I find things—I’m good at it. I’m a Seeker. That’s what he called me.”

“No wonder he saved you, if he knew that. Very useful. But I’m betting there are other things you can do.”

“Really?” Now, she looked intrigued.

“You have at least half fae blood. But it’s not only that; it’s your human blood as well. We tend to think that humans have no magic, but it’s more truthful perhaps that it’s just been forgotten. When it’s combined with fae-blood, fae-magic, it can awaken.”

“How would I find out?”

Jonas rubbed his hands together. “There are tests we can do, things we can try—”

“Things you can try later,” Piers suggested.

“But—”

“Jonas isn’t going anywhere,” he interrupted her. “You can spend as long as you like playing, but first, finish the story.”

She pursed her lips, but then gave a casual shrug. “A few weeks ago, I was given my last task. The thirteenth. Complete that and I’d be free.”

“And the task was?”

“I had to find something hidden in the convent of the Little Sisters of Mercy. A Key, but I don’t know to what.” She paused and sipped her drink.

Christian glanced at him, one eyebrow quirked. He reckoned Christian was having the same notion he was. Which demon knew where the Key had been hidden all these years? He pushed the thought aside as Roz continued. “So I got myself in there. I’ve become very good over the years at acquiring new identities, becoming different people. I became Sister Rosa, did a bit of creative stuff with their records, and I was in.”

“Bet that was fun?”

She tossed him a dark look. “It was hell. But I did it, and I was going to be free at last. Then on the last night, this creep, Jack, breaks in there, kills all the nuns, and steals my Key.”

“So you had no clue what this Key did, what it could do? And you just planned on handing it over to some demon to use for who knows what purposes?”

At Christian’s words, she turned and glared. “Yes,” she hissed.

“You could have gone to someone for help.”

“Who? He told me that I was an abomination, that the Order of the Shadow Accords would kill me if they realized what I was. I know he lied about a lot of things, but did he lie about that?”

Christian shifted uncomfortably. “Well…”

“In part,” Piers said. “The Order probably wouldn’t touch you, but under the Accords, the fae have the right to kill any with mixed blood. They ignore the people like Jonas—they prefer to pretend they don’t exist, but someone with half fae blood…yeah, chances are the Walker might want you dead.”

“Great,” she muttered. “Who’s this Walker guy?”

“He’s an assassin. Nearly killed Tara, his own niece, a little while back. So I doubt he’d balk at killing you.” Piers grinned. “So, let’s not tell him.”

“Good idea. Anyway, I needed my Key back, and you were my only lead. I thought you might take me to it, and so here I am.”

Piers had the distinct impression that there was something, if not a few things, that she wasn’t telling them. But the story made sense. One thing he didn’t like was the coincidence in two people searching for this Key at the same time when it had been safely hidden for a thousand years. But maybe it wasn’t coincidence at all. He poured himself another drink and studied her. She was back to impassive, the emotion gone from her features. She appeared so young and innocent. It was hard to believe she was more than five hundred years old, had lived countless lives. She’d been under the protection of a demon all that time and yet still retained a sweetness that was palpable. Mind you, she could also drink like a fish and was as tough and fearless as anyone he’d ever met. He still couldn’t believe she’d been faking being under his control—though she hadn’t faked those orgasms or her near desperation earlier. She wanted him.

“Do you sleep with this demon?” He wasn’t quite sure where the question had come from, but he leaned forward, waiting for the answer.

“Mind your own goddamned business.”

“I’m guessing no, and you know why?”

“No, and I’d really rather you didn’t bother me with your pathetic theories.”

He ignored her. “Because, darling, you wouldn’t have come on to me quite so strongly if you weren’t so desperate.”

“Piers, you’re a pig.” It was Tara who spoke. Roz was too busy glaring at him.

Hell, he’d been called worse things.

The truth was he’d almost forgotten the others were still in the room.

Christian pushed back his chair and stood up. “I think it’s time we left.”

Roz glanced around as everyone rose to their feet except him. “So am I free to go?” she asked.

Piers opened his mouth to say no, but Christian beat him to it. “Why don’t you stay here for a while, at least. As a guest of the Order.”

“Well, I’ve not been too impressed by the
guest
facilities so far.”

Christian glanced at him, one eyebrow quirked.

“She’s been in the cells.”

Christian shook his head. “Ever the gentleman.” He turned to Roz. “We have guest quarters above ground. They’re very comfortable.”

“And I’m not a prisoner. I can come and go?”

Well, you can come, and frequently
, Piers wanted to say. On the other hand, going wasn’t an option. But maybe he’d leave that bit of information for now. “Why don’t you stay a while, work with Jonas, identify this demon, and we might be able to get him off your back without finding this Key. Jonas can also tell you something about what goes on here and maybe what you are and what you can do.”

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

“I’ll show you to the guest quarters,” Tara said. “Get you settled in.”

Piers almost protested at that—he wanted to get her settled in—but Roz was looking a little dazed. Maybe she needed time to adjust to what was happening, and he had things to do. Trying to locate Andarta, for one.

Roz nodded, her relief obvious. He got up and followed her to the door, halting her with a hand on her arm as she was about to follow Christian and Tara out. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “I’d like that vibrator back—any relief you get is going to come from me.”

She shot him a filthy look. “Piss off.”

Chapter Ten

Roz’s mind was reeling.

She was immortal.

The Order had no plans to kill her. They would never have killed her. But her father’s people might. Whoever he was. She’d told the truth; she only had the vaguest of memories of him.

She gave Tara a quick sideways glance. Tara was half-fae, and she reminded Roz of the few hazy memories she had of her father. He’d been blond, with green eyes, just like Tara. But maybe that was something all the fae shared.

Except her. She’d gotten her looks almost exclusively from her mother.

She swayed and balanced herself with a hand flat to the cool wall. There was too much to take in; plus she reckoned she’d drunk about half a bottle of scotch in there, and she was feeling the effects.

Lack of sleep.

Worry.

Scotch.

Relief.

All were milling together in her mind.

She had an overwhelming urge to lie down in a darkened room and pass out.
Soon
, she promised herself.

“Come on,” Tara said from beside her. “You look about ready to keel over.”

Yeah, that about summed it up.

She glanced at the other woman curiously. This was Asmodai’s daughter—it was hard to believe. Impossible, really. Tara was about her height—which was no height at all. She had bright blond hair cut in a blunt bob and grass-green eyes, which were returning Roz’s inspection.

She grinned. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“That I’m half-demon. I take after my mother. Come on, we’ll get you settled in the guest quarters, then you can have half an hour asking questions—I can see you’ve got tons. I was the same.”

They were heading toward the elevator when Roz stopped.

“Sister Maria—we have to go get her. She’s still in the cells.”

“We called down, and someone is taking her to the guest suite. She’s probably already there.”

“Oh, good.” Behind her, she could hear the murmur of voices and knew it was Christian, Piers, and the warlock. She really couldn’t take any more of Piers right now—she wasn’t feeling strong enough to counter his barbed comments. At the same time, some inner voice whispered that she couldn’t allow him to see her as vulnerable in any way, or he would use it. “Come on, let’s go.”

Tara glanced behind her and smiled as if she could understand exactly what was going through her mind. Maybe she could? What a horrible thought.

“They can be a little overpowering,” Tara murmured.

“They can be total assholes,” Roz countered.

Tara laughed. “Christian, not so much, but Piers….Yeah, I’d say asshole covers it. It comes from getting his own way too much.” She stopped by the elevator and pressed the button. The doors slid open and she gestured inside. “He needs someone to take him down a bit.”

“Well, don’t look at me.” She let out a sigh of relief as the doors closed and the elevator swept them upward. “So you’re a newlywed?” she asked.

Tara smiled. “Six months.”

“What’s it like being married to a vampire?”

Tara opened her mouth to answer, but the doors opened and she paused. They stepped out and directly into the guest suite. Through the tall windows opposite, Roz could see the lights of the city of London spread out. They were high up.

“We’re in the penthouse,” Tara said.

Roz gave her a sharp glance. “Can you read my mind?”

“No, but your face is very easy to read, when you stop trying to hide what you’re thinking.”

Roz rubbed a finger between her brows. “I’m too tired to hide. It’s been a busy few days.”

Tara reached out and rested her palm on Roz’s forearm. “You don’t have to hide from me. Whatever you are—it makes no difference. It’s what you’ve done that matters.”

Roz shrugged free and stepped away, moving closer to the window to stare out into the night. “Well, that’s a total bummer, because I’ve done some pretty bad things in my long life.”

“I’m betting not so bad.”

She swung around. “You know nothing.”

Tara shrugged. “Look at how you’ve taken care of Sister Maria.”

“I couldn’t get rid of her. Clung like a bloody burr.”

“Of course she did. That’s why you wanted to get her out of the cells just now.”

At that moment, one of the doors that led off the reception area swung open, and Maria stood in the doorway. Wearing a fluffy dark blue robe that covered her from head to toe, she was rubbing at her short hair with a matching towel. She looked almost like a normal human being, and Roz smiled at the thought.

“Hi,” Maria said. She even sounded human. Maybe there was life after the convent.

“You okay?” Roz asked and Maria nodded.

Tara stepped forward. “Hi, we haven’t met, though you’ve met my husband, Christian. I’m Tara.”